


Ghosts of the Present

by SickRavenBird



Series: Ghosts of the Time [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Eventual Happy Ending, Everyone Has Issues, F/M, Ghosts, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Miscommunication, Porn With Plot, Smut, Violence, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:06:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22291540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SickRavenBird/pseuds/SickRavenBird
Summary: Miranda Bradbury has gotten her life together with help of magic and Jonathan Crane. Now everything seems to go well in her life - she is happy and loved. But as it goes, happiness cannot continue forever. The League of assassins comes in Gotham and Miranda has new reason to fear for her life. Add Jonathan's constant paranoia to the mix, and you get one life-wrecking cocktail.
Relationships: Jonathan Crane/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Ghosts of the Time [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1604551
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

Jonathan found Miranda standing at the window as many times before. As many times before, she looked at him with a faint smile and shook her head. So, he didn’t ask. It’s been two months since her nightmares started. As if the happiness she felt when the ghosts were finally locked up opened door to worse things.

First time she woke up next to him, she scared him. In the middle of the night, with a shout. She was shaking, cold sweat dripping of her face and Jonathan would swear he saw tears. Miranda never cried.

“Are you okay?” Jonathan asked. He had his fair share of nightmares back in the day. Murder of crows. Murder of granny. Her corpse stalking him, telling him he is dirty. That he should be pure in front of God. She will purify him.

He always felt like shit after.

“Yeah,” Miranda would answer massaging her ribs. “Just a nightmare.” Then she would leave to the living room. First few times he went after her and hugged her until the shaking stopped. Later he stayed in bed. He didn’t give up on her.

“It’s not worth it, Jonathan. Get some sleep.”

So, he didn’t comment on it today either. He just made her tea and went about his business. Miranda never told him what haunts her in the dreams and Jonathan didn’t pry. He would hate it, if she did it to him.

Miranda finally joined him at the table.

“Good morning.”

“Is it?” he responded.

“Better. I’m getting used to it. In no time, I will sleep like a baby,” she joked. She always joked when she was lost. That was one of her talents. Another one was she asked for help only when she was truly desperate. Normal things were okay, she always came to him with jar of pickles, as if she wasn’t the muscle in their relationship, but it looked like anything connected to ghosts or her past she grabbed and pulled in. She suffocated it inside herself like a dead rat rotting in her soul. Jonathan felt as if she was more open before Constantine grabbed her ghosts by the neck. The charm bound the ghosts and also Miranda’s tongue. Or maybe he imagined it. Maybe she never was truthful.

“That’s good,” he answered.

Jonathan hated this situation. First, he was psychiatrist. Talking to people was his job. Why was it so hard now? All he needed was to ask what was bothering her. Try to clarify. Sometimes just talking about it can shun away the trouble. Dreams weren’t that difficult to fix. Yet, he couldn’t get himself to try.

Second, he felt useless. He tried to help Miranda before and, in the end, she ran to get help elsewhere. Is this why she doesn’t ask anymore? He is not good enough, he understands mind, not magic. If the ghosts are acting up, he might never know. She would go after that face-stealing freak in trench coat who… who was able to help her, unlike useless Crane.

And third, he was worried. If she was still haunted, no telling what she will do. Her brain was interesting mix of patience, intelligence and blindness. One day she will get killed because she will act out in rush. Another shock like that he wouldn’t stand.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he tried.

Miranda, biting her thumb, looked surprised. Then smiled. “I think we should talk about more important things. Are we going formal or _formal_ tonight?”

Very well, he will follow her wishes.

“Armed, but in all politeness.”

“Masks?”

“Yes.”

“Can’t wait,” she grinned. She’s been excited about tonight for a week. Jonathan didn’t understand the appeal, but he was happy to see her smile again.

“Just remember you are a bodyguard,” he reminded her.

“I will not embarrass you in front of the Legion,” she replied.

“Thank you.”

Miranda smiled into her cup. “Sorry I’m a mess. I promise I will get my shit together.”

“I don’t doubt that. Just know I am here to help.”

“Never forgot.”

Somehow, he doubted it.

***

Miranda never doubted Jonathan would hear her out, but what would that help against the reoccurring memory that woke her every night? It wasn’t even one of the worst ones, yet it made her tremble and cry.

Crying was so freeing after emotionless years and yet it made her feel ridiculous. She locked away the bastards, she nearly overdosed on Jonathan’s medication and it snapped something inside her. No more following the League’s training, no more closing herself down. With pain in her heart she let emotions free and… She felt once again. Feeling…

Miranda was sure feelings unlocked her nightmares.

Five or six, that’s how old she was when this happened. The dream showed her scenes, but she remembered more vividly. Every time she woke from it her memory jogged and filled the gaps the dream left uncovered. It eased it and made it worse at the same time as her mind started racing, not allowing her to go back to sleep.

Little girl ran from the kitchen holding a piece of bread she stole. She climbed out of window and aimed up. Roof was the only place she felt safe at. Nobody ever looked for her there. Cold wind and snow were hitting her face as she was getting higher.

Shouting in the house let her know she will be spanked or worse when they find her. But any punishment is fine as long as you face it with full stomach, that’s what she learned. Yelling, beating, the ugly fat fuck and his whips, none of that hurt as bad as starving.

Feeling like a winner she reached the top of the house. Warm feeling in her chest, happy she got away with it again. She wasn’t good for nothing spawn, she could take care of herself!

Master stood there, waiting with cold stare in her brown eyes. Her short black hair showed first signs of grey and that made her look even more strict. The girl froze, her throat stiffened, the fear ran through her spine. Feeling of victory was gone.

“Unbelievable,” said the master in calm voice that she used before punishments. “You are stupider than I thought, girl.”

Master kicked the girl in the face.

The cold surface of roof slipped through girl’s fingers.

Miranda was falling.

She woke up with a scream and loud crack noise in her ears.

You cannot fight memories, you just have to let them weaken. The impact will disappear in time. A question still hoovered over her. How was it so significant that it made her doubt? Just because of this memory she hurt again. Not only herself but also Jonathan. She had ton of memories that shook her bones even awake. Why the fall?

“Stupid girl can’t figure it out, as I expected,” she heard voice of master in her head.

“I would love it if you shut the fuck up,” Miranda answered.

“What?” asked Terry.

Miranda sighed annoyed over herself. “Sorry, just arguing with the voices in my head.”

Terry shook their head. They got used to Miranda’s occasional weird behaviour. She always talked to herself when she thought nobody is looking and sometimes it slipped in front of other people. “Have you considered shrink, boss?” Terry suggested while putting stuffed bears into the shelf.

“Yes.”

“I mean normal one, not your boyfriend.”

“You are on thin ice, Terry.”

“Sorry, just looking after you.”

Miranda stayed quiet, she didn’t want to snap at Terry. After the rough start they got along well. Terry relaxed a bit, Miranda even invited them for dinner at her place. That turned out to be horrible idea, because Jonathan used it as an excuse to interrogate Terry. Person tries to kill you once and he won’t let it go!

“Just poke me when I get lost in thoughts again,” Miranda said.

“Can do. Hey, boss. Would you mind if I took Saturday off?”

Miranda frowned. “Why?”

“I might have a date, if you let me.”

Saturday was the worst possible day. Miranda needed to be someplace else. “Can’t you do Friday?”

“No, sorry.”

Miranda sighed and waved her hand. “But you have to work twice as much today, get it?”

“Thanks, boss!”

“And give me their name so I can make sure they are good for you.”

“No way,” smiled Terry and Miranda relaxed a bit. World was running as it should have. Her stupid nightmares cannot ruin what she built. There is nothing to fear but fear itself, that’s what Jonathan taught her. Saturday was far enough, she will figure something out.

Now she just has to focus on her evening.

***

“Remember, just a bodyguard,” Jonathan reminded her as they were getting ready to go for the big meeting. Miranda made sure her weapons were well conceived. Getting accused of potentially trying to kill your co-workers was not on the list tonight.

“You say it like last time it was my fault. It takes two to rodeo, you know,” she replied.

“Therefore, I expect you will be the reasonable one today.”

Miranda grinned. Sky will fall before Jonathan accepts any mistake. Even though – could they call it a mistake? Embarrassment for sure, but nothing bad happened!

“I doubt Legion of Doom meeting will have alcohol.”

“Can we not discuss this now?”

Jonathan was awkward about it while Miranda thought it was hilarious. Long story short, two weeks ago there was a party at Iceberg Lounge. Even there Miranda went as a bodyguard. This created one big gossip – Jonathan was always a solo player and now he needs a bodyguard? The worst was Edward Nygma, or, as Gotham called him, the Riddler. The whole evening he walked around Jonathan with stupid comments.

“Has Scarecrow kidnapped a girlfriend?” “Johnny Boy has to pay?” “That potato sack sure brings ladies in.” “Riddle me this, who is scary virgin?”

Miranda was ready to slice his throat, but Jonathan stopped her with the calmest look possible. “It’s okay. Edward stoops to insulting when he runs out of riddles a five-year-old could solve.”

That ended up with both men bickering like two little kids. And then drinking vodka as a peace offering, as they set their differences aside with: “I like your girlfriend,” and: “Your riddles aren’t stupid.” Miranda joined them during fifth or sixth shot, because they insisted the lady cannot fall behind. Arguably, she was the most sober one and she also remembered the most.

Long story shorter – Jonathan and Miranda got pissed drunk and ended up making out by the entrance to the Lounge so pretty much everyone saw them. That finished Jonathan’s tries to take it easy, stay secret, don’t embarrass each other in front of other rouges.

Good thing he didn’t remember the fact they hid in janitor’s closet for a quickie and when they left, Nygma was leaning on an ash tray by the toilets, shitfaced, clapping slowly.

At least he stopped joking around. Miranda wondered whether he remember more than Jonathan. Erasing all security cameras feed next day was the best thing she could do anyways.

So, yes, they should definitely avoid doing this at Legion of Doom meeting.

“Legion meets only so often. If someone needs professional help, a team of specialists. Anyone can find henchmen, but sometimes you need bigger guns. Not anyone can summon the meeting, just few members have that power,” Jonathan explained to her when he got the invitation.

“Do you?”

“Oh no, I am low level. B-list villain, if you will.”

“For me you will always be A league.”

She loved how he smirked at compliments.

So, today was the big day. As they rode in elevator, Miranda got a bit nervous. She’s heard a lot about Legion of Doom. They were villains allied against Justice League. When they did something, it was huge. Who will they meet there? Joker? Luthor? Some other cool guy?

The elevator door opened into a small conference room. Miranda lost her breath. She expected big but not _this_ big.

At the table sit giant man covered in scales. His face was deformed, jaws with sharp teeth covered in blood as if he just returned from lunch and the lunch was live chicken.

Jonathan paid no attention to that abomination. He sat at the table. Miranda followed his example and she stood beside him scanning the rest of the room. Except for giant… crocodile?... there were several of Gotham’s worst. She didn’t recognize everyone – there was Poison Ivy, she looked as if she didn’t want to be here. And Edward Nygma, he smiled and winked at Jonathan when they entered, but he didn’t say a word. The rest of people she didn’t know. There was this small guy in a top hat whose eyes frantically looked around the room. Another one was very plain woman – something Miranda aimed to be, invisible for naked eye. Uninteresting. Maybe they were unknown bodyguard and henchmen like she was. Or they didn’t cause mayhem while she lived in Gotham. Miranda wasn’t here long enough to read about every B-list jerk.

They all sat there in silence for good twenty minutes. Finally, Nygma couldn’t take it anymore.

“Does anyone know who summoned us here?” he said in annoyed tone of voice. “I have more important matters than to sit here.”

“No,” answered Poison Ivy. “Invitation came in normally.”

“Do friends want some tea?” asked the top hat man.

“I don’t have time for this,” grumbled the crocodile man. “I’m hungry!”

“Biscuits?”

“I will bite your head off!”

“Calm down, Waylon. Let’s give it five more minutes,” decided Jonathan.

“In five minutes I will eat your face, crow man!”

“I want to see you try, Croc. I will make you shake and cry like a toddler.”

“Everybody just wait it out,” the uninteresting woman said. “Waiting is part of the big play, to see if we are worth it.”

“Screw that,” Nygma smirked.

 _Do you see that, Miranda? That’s why bad guys work alone._ Only crazy people would force them to cooperate. Jonathan is not insane, if something stupid is suggested, he won’t take it, right? She couldn’t imagine working with neither of these. Maybe Poison Ivy, but her hate towards humans would make the cooperation impossible. She just sat there, arms folded, didn’t join the arguing. Miranda would love to have her indifference right now. Legion of Doom seemed more like Legion of Fools.

The clock was ticking, and it already seemed like they will just give up and leave, when the elevator dinged, and the door opened.

Miranda nearly screamed. It took every muscle and brain cell to force herself to stay calm. _Don’t run! Don’t move a fucking muscle, Miranda!_ shouted voice in her head.

 _Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa_! shouted the other voice.

And between them the master chuckled like some sort of Bond villain.

A man walked in the room. The bickering stopped and everyone was watching him. He stood at the table and looked at every attendant there. Miranda stopped breathing when their eyes met. _I will die!_

But he continued looking around as if Miranda was just regular part of the room. Just another piece of furniture. Boring.

_Calm down, Miranda. He has no idea who you are._

She knew exactly who he was though.

Ra’s al Ghul. The Demon’s head. The leader of the League of assassins.

Miranda looked at Jonathan. He didn’t seem phased by the entrance of one of the most dangerous men alive at all. Frankly, she never told him what organization she used to be part of, but he should also freak out. Everyone should cry for mercy! How are they so calm?

“Finally,” said Edward. “I thought we will die here of boredom.”

_What the fuck, Nygma!? Do you want to die!? You should kneel and hope he will not chop your head off!_

_Calm your tits, Miranda!_

_Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!_

“I apologize for the lateness. Gotham traffic is disgusting, just like this city,” said the Demon’s head. “I will not hold you much longer. I have a job for each of you.”

“Is this job worth calling Legion of Doom meeting?” questioned the plain lady.

“It requires work of you all. It will move the foundation of the city itself. Of course, you will be rewarded if glory and change isn’t on your bucket list. If you mind.” He handed out envelopes to each of them. Jonathan opened his. Miranda felt the need to look over his shoulder. _Just a bodyguard!_ She didn’t do it.

Nygma chuckled. “How do you want to compensate us for this?” he waved the paper. “I’m not your soldier, I am not suicidal.”

“Read it all before asking any questions,” said Ra’s.

With shit-eating grin Nygma read the rest of the letter. His eyes followed the lines of text and lower he got, the more shocked his expression grew.

“What is this shit?” growled Waylon.

“Your task and your reward,” Ra’s stated the obvious. “I am sure you all know what I am offering. No secret stays safe in Gotham. I need your answer now.”

“I’m in,” said Jonathan without a second to think about it. Miranda bit her lip under the mask. In!? He will cooperate with the Demon’s head!? Is he really insane!?

_Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!_

“Me too,” agreed Nygma. “I will show him for the last time.”

One after one the rogues agreed to help Ra’s al Ghul. Even the giant crocodile grinned big, his teeth slimy like a fish. “I like easy jobs.”

And Miranda stood there not ready to die.

***

The world was in mist. Miranda’s mind blank. She had no idea how they left the lair or how she got to Jonathan’s place. As if the body wasn’t hers and some outside force was leading her steps.

“So, what do you think about the Legion? Did it fulfil your expectations?”

Miranda blinked.

And ran to the bathroom to throw up.


	2. Chapter 2

Miranda sat at the table, head in her hands. Jonathan across her thought through what she just told him. Silently sipping coffee, he figured the best approach to this will be an interrogation.

“You were part of the League of assassins.”

“Yeah.”

“And you thought it was a good idea to move to Gotham.”

“I didn’t know he came here so often!”

“He does. From time to time Ra’s makes a mess in this city,” agreed Jonathan. “How did that slip you?”

“I guess I didn’t ask right questions,” sighed Miranda in capitulation. She kept tucking on the charm as if she was ready to tear it down and let the ghosts kill her. Empty unfocused gaze showed she is also thinking hard. Is she considering running away? Jonathan knew this bond of theirs were just words. She left her life behind before, why would he be any different?

“You cannot do this, Jonathan,” she surprised him instead of running, “you cannot work for the Demon’s head!”

“Didn’t you say he doesn’t know you?” Jonathan ignored her request on purpose. Even Miranda can’t boss him around. This wasn’t his first job for Ra’s. Most of them were small, drug selling or making correct people crazy. Ra’s was always fair. Now, Jonathan didn’t trust him, however, he didn’t have reason to expect this job will go sideways. When Ra’s promised something, he delivered. Loyalty was more valuable to him than money or whatever else he offered.

“No general knows all his foot soldiers. He is the Demon’s head! I worked under the captain so to say. In completely different part of the world. I’ve seen Ra’s al Ghul once as a kid. Master Khulan wanted us to see him, so we know who we die for.”

“Why worry then?”

“Are you for real?” Miranda grimaced disgusted. “They are the League! If you are not careful… If… Aagh! One wrong step and I am dead!”

Jonathan bit his tongue so he doesn’t say something that would send her to rage. He didn’t need that now. Angry Miranda would be able to book a ticket and fly to Europe without second thought.

“You are supposed to be dead for a decade, Miranda. Just don’t cross their way and you will be okay.”

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “If they realize, I am as good as dead. And they may not stop there. You would be in danger too. Please, Jonathan, the work can’t be that important.”

“You know science is always the most important thing,” he replied in calm voice. “And I cannot cancel now, that would be the real death sentence.”

Miranda grumbled in frustration. “Fine, I am not helping you with this.”

“I can accept that.”

“And remember one thing,” her eyes finally focused on him, “if it comes to decision between you and me, I am choosing myself. You got yourself into this, I am not dying.”

Jonathan laughed silently. “Miranda, that’s obvious.”

“What!?”

He rested his head on his palm. The expression on her face was joyous. They might have built something, he might have liked her… loved her even… but that was it. He wouldn’t sabotage himself for her. Not again, not after the last fiasco. Jonathan decided he will not go outside his plans. Control was important, he cannot lose that. No holding city hostage again.

“People don’t do that,” he explained slowly. “They do not sacrifice themselves for the others. They might say so, but when faced with the possibility, everyone will always pick themselves. Noble sacrifices are book fantasy, made up so people can feel good about their fake morals.”

That shut her up. She silently watched him, anger slowly disappearing from her face. Then she nodded. “Fine. I am glad we understand each other.”

The situation wasn’t fixed. Miranda still looked around nervously and tucked the bell. It dinged silently. It was funny, Jonathan has read about these charms some time ago. Apparently, silver bells were new age thing that pregnant women wore to be on the same wavelength with their child. Did Miranda know her anti-ghost pendant has different purpose for general population?

“What are you doing for them anyways?” Miranda interrupted his train of thoughts.

“You said you don’t want it.”

“I don’t. I want to know what made you jump after it like a horny teenager at a sex doll.”

“Excuse me?”

“You didn’t even think about the offer. What did he promise, tell me?”

Why the hell did he ever started dating someone whose metaphors always revolved around sex? And her vocabulary consisted of seventy percent of swear words? _Charming, Miranda, really._

“Here,” he handed her the envelope.

There! That was it! Miranda’s behaviour may be rude, but when she thinks, her face makes this expression and that’s what he enjoyed. She read through the task, frowning a bit. Finding new things, and realization connected to exploring was Jonathan’s life, he loved to learn and think. That’s what he looked for and Miranda was opened to learning. Maybe not at the moment, but other times, she took his suggestions and she talked with him about things she hardly understood and tried to grasp at them. That’s what he liked about her, she could catch up with him. Now only if her taste in books got better.

“Let me get this straight,” Miranda put down the paper after few minutes. Jonathan was curious what did she figure out. “They want you to mix some chemicals from plants they imported.”

“Correct.”

“I know them. They are used to drug their soldiers to not fear death. Kinda breaks your modus operandi.”

“It’s a job. I will not use it, they will.”

Miranda nodded. “I expect they want Ivy to fasten the speed of growth.”

“That’s what I figured,” agreed Jonathan.

“Who were the people at the Legion? Nygma I know.”

“Waylon Jones, or also known as Killer Croc, and Jervis Tetch. That one is a madman with good hypnotic skills. The last lady I don’t know, but I have my suspicion.”

Miranda bit her lip thinking. Jonathan smiled.

“What is Croc anyways?”

“He was born with rare skin disease. Years of ridicule made him succumb to this nature. More years of Arkham experiments made him… worse. He lives under the city.”

“So, he knows sewers.”

“Yes.”

“And Nygma? What is he good for in his mess?”

“What is flamboyant idiot who can’t keep himself hidden to save his life good for?”

Miranda grinned. “He’s a Bat bait.”

“Most certainly,” agreed Jonathan.

“And hypnotist… drugs, hypnosis… What are they doing?” mumbled Miranda to herself.

“That’s the point…”

“…foot soldiers don’t need to know what generals want,” she finished for him. “Yes, I know this strategy. I lived it. But I still don’t get one thing. The reward. You want these new plants to test on, that’s clear. And then there is this,” she pointed at the paper. “What’s the bottle?”

Jonathan laughed in surprise. “You’ve been in the League and you don’t know?”

“Don’t patronize me and explain,” she snapped.

“Sorry,” he backed off. “It’s bottle of water from the Lazarus pit.”

Miranda’s face turned white in surprise. Eyes wide, mouth open. “What!?”

“The Lazarus pit is…”

“I know! It keeps the Demon’s head alive for centuries. He just hands it out!? And how do Gotham rogues know about this?” she raised her voice. This information made her nervous. Jonathan had the same inner reaction when he read about the reward. The possibilities! But also, the danger. Lazarus pit had shadow of evil hoovering over it. Worse evil, than even most of the rogues accepted. Yet… having something this powerful…

“It’s well known in Gotham that the Lazarus pit exists,” Jonathan explained. “Few years back Joker killed one of Bat’s boy wonders. Nasty stuff, it shook bones of all of us. We all wish them dead, but not like this.” Miranda watched him in silence, listening carefully. It reminded him times when he taught at university. He loved the job. The curious looks of students, questions he could answer. He wished to go back. Unfortunately, there is no going back. They never understood his approach.

“Bat has heard about the Lazarus pit, so you can imagine what he did. He found it and tossed the dead body in. Who can blame him? But it was long after the body died. Way too long. The boy came back… different. Wrong. Him and Bat never made up. The boy almost killed Joker if his saviour didn’t stop him.”

“Bat did that?” Miranda said unsure.

“That’s what they say. Truth will be somewhere in between, only he knows. But the word spread. That’s how people know about the pit.”

Miranda shook her head. “That’s insane. This whole situation is insane.”

“You understand that getting my hands on the water is incredible opportunity. I can’t begin to imagine what could be done with it.”

Miranda smirked. “Yeah. I get it,” she replied annoyed.

Jonathan sighed. He didn’t expect she will calm down, but he hoped. Not everyone can keep his level of stoic. If it was about his past, he would probably freak out too. Thankfully, he got rid of any danger from that long ago. He walked behind Miranda’s chair and put his hands on her shoulders. Stiff.

“I am sure you will not get in danger,” he said massaging her. “You are clever.”

She relaxed a bit. “I will lay low for a while,” she agreed.

“That’s going to be for the best.”

“Are you sure it’s not a trick? That they won’t kill you after they are done with you?”

“You can never be sure in Gotham.”

“I guess.”

He leaned to her and kissed her neck. “Now, are you staying or are you moving to Europe?”

Miranda laughed sincerely. “I don’t know. Convince me?”

Jonathan grinned. “Convince you, hm? Let me think.” He ran his fingers on her neck and through her hair. She purred like a cat when he touched her collar bone. Her clothing became more relaxed after ghosts went. She stopped being afraid to show her skin and the charm. Goodbye to turtleneck, hello to free neckline. He appreciated this small change.

“I think I got it,” he said after kissing her cheek and neck. He slid his hands lower, now massaging her breasts. “You will get dressed up,” he whispered, “and we will go together to the bookstore. My treat.”

“Ah, damn you, Jonathan,” Miranda smiled. “You are a devil. Let’s go!”

“Yes, I am. Don’t worry, I will collect my debts.”

“Whatever you want, professor.”


	3. Chapter 3

Two days later Miranda got a call in the least convenient moment. She was just getting ready to leave, when the phone buzzed. Half dressed she picked up. Next time she will just put it on don’t disturb, so she can avoid any conversation.

“Can I visit?” asked Jonathan. “I’m around.”

“Sorry, honey, I don’t have time right now,” she answered while trying to tie her boots.

“I am starting the work tomorrow, I will probably be gone for days. We won’t be able to see each other.”

“I know, sorry. This can’t wait.”

Jonathan went silent for a moment and she could almost see his face of disapproval. “Didn’t you say you will lay low?”

“I am. I had this job planned for a long time, I cannot cancel it.”

“Can I help?”

“No, not really. This is solo thing.” Miranda wanted to cut the talk short, however, Jonathan obviously had different plans.

“Is this the kind of job you’ve been doing in secret for a month now?”

Miranda grinded her teeth. What the hell is he trying now? Even after two months he let his paranoia get the best of him. She didn’t take it personally, but she noticed she avoids telling him things. This was not healthy. But then again, what about them was?

_That’s no excuse, Miranda. Just send him to hell as always._

“Are you stalking me, Jonathan?”

“Maybe.”

“You are not doing very good job if you don’t know what I am doing, hm?”

“Listen!” he snapped at her and went silent. After few seconds he continued in calmer voice. “I just noticed your schedule, I don’t stalk you personally.”

“As if you could,” she smirked. “Really, what’s your problem?”

“I’d just like to know what you do.”

“I fuck every single person in Gotham and beyond.”

“Miranda…”

“Mostly Terry.”

“Miranda!” Now he sounded really angry.

“I am glad you feel like that. Now imagine how I feel.”

“Fine. Be secretive,” he hissed.

“I have right for privacy, Jonathan.”

“I know,” he said still sounding uptight. “I know. Sorry.”

“Good. I am just stealing something,” she explained calmly.

“That’s not what you usually do.”

“Yeah, I don’t want dead bodies to point my way. The League doesn’t care about thieves. It’s antique. Did you know Gotham has one of the biggest archives, museums and galleries on the east coast?”

“You are bringing them collectibles?”

“I don’t ask, the buyer can fuck it for all I care.”

“You are so dirty mouthed it’s unbelievable,” Jonathan commented with newly found amusement in his voice. He calmed down, that’s good. Miranda felt little bad for lying to him, but it was better for both of them.

“You shouldn’t complain, I can do a lot with that mouth,” Miranda grinned. “Listen, I need to run now. Should I visit you when I am finished?”

“No, it’s fine. I will talk to you when we are both finished with jobs.”

“Okay. I love you, Jonathan. Despite your paranoia.”

“And me despite you always keeping things.”

She sighed. Great, this messed up her mood. _Calm down, girl, it’s time to hunt down archive scripts, are you ready? Of course, you are! Let’s do this!_

Archive had as much security as you’d expect of place nobody ever wants to visit. Zero. However, it had everything you could wish for, if you were crazy enough to enter – shelves and drawers full of papers, files, binders and locked doors hiding the oldest, yellowest papers. If they weren’t sealed, Miranda could almost feel them crumble under her fingers. How is she supposed to find anything in this abundance of papers? She will spend whole night here!

In the end she enjoyed rummaging through old news and blueprints. Curiosity got the best of her and she caught herself reading how the city centre was built and how hard it was to do it on seemingly infinite cave system running under it. Always, at the end of a paper, she realized she is supposed to look for something else and got back to work. Just to read again.

Near midnight she put down another text. She groaned. No luck. And so much information about everything! _Focus, girl. You will spend life here. Look around. What are you missing?_

There! One drawer still shut. She reached for it.

She woke at the end of old newspaper article describing the win of Gotham’s Devils in the last football season.

What?

That drawer fought her. It must be it! She reached for it.

And old cult using an owl symbol used to rule the city, how inter- fuck! Miranda turned to drawer frustrated and threw the text away. She will open that thing! Very slowly she neared it, she didn’t let her eyes slip. No text will catch her attention. There – she felt a force that tried to make her turn her head, to look at anything else.

She held the charm. One more step. Reach for the handle.

_Do you really not care what happened in Gotham 1888?_

_No!_

She opened it. At the bottom lay old parchment without proper protection. Yellow, with black ink, words written in languages she didn’t recognize, with alphabet, that felt otherworldly. Carefully she took it, she already had experience with weird magic items.

It was warm. The letters moved, as if they didn’t want to be read.

“Silly paper, I can’t read you anyways,” she said stupefied.

“I know that,” answered the paper. “But you might remember.”

Miranda turned in shock. Among the papers rose a shadow looking like her, as a fear of what might happen in the future came alive. Just a silhouette with tendrils rising out of it. _This could be you_ , that was the message.

“Are you real?”

Shadow smiled with dark holes instead of mouth and eyes. “You cannot take me.”

Miranda held the parchment closer. No ghost will take it from her, she had to go through so much bad newspaper articles for it!

“I am no evil witch, really, I have just good intentions. I will not harm your paper.”

“I don’t believe you,” said the shadow. The tendrils now waved around the body calmly. Miranda bit her lip. What was she told? Conversation first, violence later, never the other way around with magic beasts.

“Okay. How can I prove myself?”

Shadow made a step towards her and Miranda realized she is not scared at all. As if its dark aura calmed her down. “Show me,” it asked and reached for her. It grabbed her face, cold, so cold like her ghosts used to be. It caused her goose bumps all over the body. The memory was more uncomfortable than the shadow Miranda. It looked into her eyes with two voids and she wondered if it can read her thoughts and memories.

“This. Can’t see through this,” the shadow said and touched the charm.

“Sorry, can’t take it off,” Miranda said, nervousness rising, hoping she won’t lose her head. The shadow frowned and then it leaned closer.

“I will go deeper.”

“De-“

It kissed her. Cold shadow tongue entered her mouth and she would gasp if she could. It didn’t care about the mask, it passed right through. It brought her closer, coldness surrounded her as the arms hugged her. Miranda felt the cold as from far away, her mind clear of fear, but she sensed curious finger reaching around in there to find why does she steal in the archive. Like a kid pulling adult’s hand to get some attention, just fast dragging in her head, trying to get the answers.

“Not good enough,” shadow whispered tightening its grip. It never let her go, showing it can speak with no mouth. Tendril started searching her body stronger and more precisely. Coldness made her nipples hard and how the thing touched them, it caused her to tremble. “Ah, there, I can see clearer.” It turned the tendril around her breast and Miranda would yelp if the tongue didn’t silence her. “Calm down, human, you are breaking the view.”

Miranda tried to relax, but it wasn’t easy. Breathing was hard, coldness made her shake and more and more shadow arms caught her as if it could stop her shivering. And yet, the panic never came. As if they were old friends who did this all the time.

It turned around her like a snake, finding a way to her crotch. Miranda tried to move, but tight grip didn’t allow it. The shadow noticed, it pushed harder, she hit her back on drawers, on of the handles poked her to the middle of the back. “There,” said the shadow satisfied. “There it is.”

It went inside her. Cold tendril entered her pussy going deep, making her shake in cold and weird fulfilling feeling she couldn’t describe. She felt the finger in her mind again, reaching, digging deeper, taking in everything what was her, not painfully, but harshly, not waiting, taking and sucking it out.

She moaned almost choking.

“Yes, I can see,” agreed the shadow moving tendrils slightly. “You are a prison. And a prisoner. Let me see more. Ah. And you want to be a warden. Show me.”

Miranda did. Her body didn’t belong to her anymore, yet she felt the cold and pleasure, and robbing in her head, and weirdness all at once, shaking, fulfilment and silent eerie voice speaking: “Oh, I see everything.” It caught her mind. That one last string, it pulled and pulled and…

Miranda screamed and crumbled to the ground, holding the parchment close to her body. She shook, breathing fast, her body pulsing with pleasure and pain. Her teeth clattered as she sat up. She needed hot tea right about now. Once her legs will listen to her and stop shaking.

God!

“Did I just get fucked by a ghost?” she typed when she managed to warm her fingers.

“It’s mirror guardian, channels your inner form,” came the answer. “You are welcome. Unless it was on fire.”

***

Days went by. Miranda shook off the memories of archive and the nervousness. The League wasn’t after her, so why worry? Jonathan can take care of himself. He went after the job and she didn’t call him because she knew how he gets if someone disturbs him when he works. Alone with her thoughts she figured that as long, as she takes it easy…

Yet…

Her dreams changed. Now when she reached the roof, it wasn’t master waiting for her. The Demon’s head, looking perfectly healthy and young, maybe just grey hair showed how old has he gotten over the centuries, was standing at the roof looking down at her. The shadows were hoovering behind him.

“You cannot win, girl,” he said and grinned at her. His mouth opened wide, his jaws showed dozens of sharp teeth, rotting, covered in blood and meat. Laughing, he grabbed her and as she was screaming, he opened his mouth.

That Saturday, she locked the shop before lunch and left.

***

That Saturday, Jonathan was working hard. When job took over him, he hardly slept, ate or did anything else. Often, after twelve hours, he would realize he is thirsty. Water was the only thing he got into himself for three days straight. Unhealthy, but some things were more important than health.

Making chemicals for the League was almost lonely business – not that he minded. Goons have brought him the plants and two of them always stood at the door guarding. He paid no attention to them. His job required focus. Formulas made perfect sense in the world of chaos. Chemistry was balance. Psychology was random. Putting them together…

He could do so many things!

That Saturday his focus was broken as door to his lab opened. In walked Ra’s al Ghul with a woman following him. They stood there by his chemical set and Jonathan had to force himself to look at them, as he was in the middle of important formula. Now every cell in his body warned him, he will forget immediately if he talks to them. And he certainly did.

“Doctor Crane, I came to see how your work is going.”

Jonathan nodded frantically. Now he became perfect example of mad scientist. “It takes time, I will test the first batch tomorrow. If it works, the rest of it should be ready in a week.”

“Are you sure it will work?” asked the woman in tone of voice that made Jonathan despise her instantly.

“As I said, I need to test it tomorrow,” repeated Jonathan.

“That’s why I brought you here, Khulan. You will pick our rats for this experiment,” turned Ra’s to her.

“What do you need?” she asked.

Jonathan thought about it as chemicals behind him dripped the tincture into a vial. “Someone with temper, so we see the difference.”

Khulan nodded. “That can be arranged.”

“Khulan will supervise your research,” said Ra’s al Ghul.

“If nobody interrupts me, I can be done sooner,” Jonathan said with clear message. They both understood.

“Very well. Tomorrow then.” They left him. Jonathan could focus on his research again, but the formula was long gone, and he had to start again. Frustrated he investigated his papers.

Maybe if science hasn’t devoured him this time, he would realize he has heard the woman’s name before.

But he didn’t.


	4. Chapter 4

Khulan was considered a master that could’ve trained anyone. Even the most problematic people – temperament ones, headstrong ones, proud ones – crumbled under her rule and swore their lives to the League. She raised them, if they came older, she stripped them of their personalities. Master who created perfect soldiers and she was proud of this title.

It came hand in hand with secrets. Khulan knew very well not all people are trainable. Their egos are too high to ever really swear an oath and mean it. Those disappeared. Those were sent to die. It always worked. Khulan accepted no failure.

That’s how she picked her lab rats. These two men were cause of many wrinkles on her face. They acted like part of the group, but they lacked in effort. Work was done without their help. Khulan had numbers of loyal soldiers who would cut their own throats if she asked. Not these two.

“Gentlemen,” she looked them over. “You’ve been chosen.”

Lines of soldiers stood in the giant underground room. Watching everything in silence, ready to change places if only master asked.

Khulan waved her hand. A man approached. The two soldiers blinked surprised about his looks – dressed in ragged clothes, straws poking everywhere, mask on his face. Scarecrow didn’t wait for instructions, he sprayed them with a strangely smelling chemical.

The men started to cough. “What the hell?” one of them said.

It took a minute. Their pupil dilated. They stopped moving, they just stood there waiting for the orders.

Khulan gave dagger to both. “Kill yourselves,” she demanded.

One of them put the dagger to his wrist but didn’t cut. The other just trembled, fighting the order.

“As expected,” Khulan nodded. “You, kill him.”

This order was not difficult. The man who just trembled turned and in one swift movement almost decapitated his fellow lab rat.

“Mr. Tetch!”

Yet another man in Halloween costume approached. He was very small but long top hat on his head made him almost as tall as most of the short people in the room. Giggling, he approached the survivor.

“Down here,” he said in a singing voice. The man leaned so Jervis could whisper in his ear. Still giggling he moved away from him next to Scarecrow. The man never straightened himself.

“Kill yourself,” Khulan demanded again. She didn’t even blink. The man stabbed his throat and cut the dagger to the side. His body fell to the pool of his own blood. Not a noise to be heard.

“Brilliant,” master Khulan turned to Scarecrow and Mad Hatter. “Exactly as we needed. You said we can expect mass production in a week?”

Scarecrow nodded. “Yes.”

“Do it,” Khulan ordered and turned to walk away.

Jonathan watched the soldiers cleaning the bodies without a word. Then Tetch tugged his sleeve as if he was a child in primary school.

“Fancy a tea, my scared crows friend?” he singsonged.

“Thank you, Jervis. But I am going home to sleep.” _I will need all the strength and wits I can get._

***

Monday morning Jonathan has decided he needs to see Miranda before walking back to the spiral of work. Mass production thankfully meant he bosses other people around and he doesn’t need to think anymore. It’s like a factory he never had. If he could manufacture this amount of fear toxin, holding whole city hostage wouldn’t be only metaphor. He could really influence everyone.

Surprisingly in the toyshop was only Terry. Jonathan walked to the counter mood already messed up. He didn’t like Terry – not only did they try to get Miranda killed, but they both always joked around dirtily and Jonathan felt it inappropriate between employee and employer. Or between Miranda and pretty much anyone.

“Is Miranda here?” he asked.

“Good day to you too,” Terry replied. The dislike was mutual. “No, boss said she feels under the weather, so she stayed home.”

“On Monday?”

“I can handle the shop,” replied Terry. New goods always arrived on Monday and Miranda made it very clear she must be at every handling. She was a freak when it came to checking numbers. Sometimes he wondered whether she didn’t smuggle illegal items together with those toys. “I was here whole day yesterday too, she is sick.”

Sick.

Or maybe she snapped and ran to Europe.

Jonathan turned and left without a word. He heard Terry mumble something and he added it to the list of complaints about this element. Once the job for the League is done and Miranda is calm, he will make sure to tell her all.

To make sure she didn’t leave the city without telling him, he visited her place. She told him before she is prone to do stupid things, he would rather stop her, before she gets to it.

Miranda opened door and she did look… no, not sick. Tired, but not sleepy. As if she got good amount of sleep but lack of energy caught her anyway. Stressed, that was the word he was looking for.

“Jonathan,” she sounded surprised. “Have you finished your work?”

“Not yet, but the most important part is done. Can I come in?”

“Sure.”

He liked her place. It was small and cosy, except you could hear anything neighbours were saying, and the windows looked directly into other windows where people moved all the time. Jonathan wondered why Miranda never invested in curtains and he figured she is probably exhibitionist.

“Are you okay?” he asked when they sat down.

“Yeah, why?”

“You look stressed.”

Miranda shrugged with smile. “A bit. I had to pass on some good jobs. But at least I have time to read that Joyce you gave me. I think that stressed me the most.”

“It’s not a bad book.”

“It’s even worse!”

Jonathan smiled. “You forced me your disturbing books, I just returned the favour.”

Miranda jumped on her feet. “Oh, I remember!” she went through her bookshelf, however, Jonathan noticed how carefully she moved. She really looked tired. After the ghosts she relaxed. Today, she was a mess again and dressed back in turtleneck and long skirt. What was she doing? Did she hide something? “Here! Have you read this?”

Jonathan took the book from her. It wasn’t any romance for a change. The Martian Chronicles. “No, I must admit this classic avoided me. Or maybe I avoided it, I am not big sci-fi fan.”

“I’ve read that Poe collection and I remembered. This book has a story heavily inspired by The Fall of the House of Usher. I think you will like it.”

“Ray Bradbury,” he read the name of the author. “Yes, he is good.”

“He is the best! That’s why I stole his name.”

Jonathan shook his head. “Wait… what?”

Miranda gave him a cute smile, as if he was a kid. “I made the name after him when I was picking.”

“Miranda Bradbury is a fake name?”

“Oh yeah, totally. Why does that surprise you?”

“I just… never thought about it. It makes sense. So, what’s your name then?”

“It’s Miranda Bradbury,” she smiled.

“Okay. Your birth name then?”

“I don’t know. I probably didn’t have any.”

“That sounds hardly useful,” he said but remembered the army of soldiers without souls. They did the bidding, followed orders, they didn’t need names when they were part of something bigger. Those who didn’t follow the line just died. Jonathan didn’t mention any of that.

“We had code names when necessary,” Miranda explained. “If you were to follow orders in team, they gave you one. But otherwise, we were just girls and boys. You don’t name tools.”

“What was your codename?” Jonathan asked and Miranda gave him even more ridiculous look than before. He held his hand up. “No, wait. It was Banshee, wasn’t it?”

“Bingo! But back then it was more insult than a name. You see, I was always terrible ninja. I couldn’t hide properly, I always made noise and alerted everyone,” she giggled. “But I was effective killer. They heard me coming, but they couldn’t tell the tale. That’s why master called me Banshee, the ghost of death. You hear her scream and you know you will die. It fit perfectly later when I got that obnoxiously loud charm.”

“I never thought there is so much history behind that nickname.”

“Yours doesn’t have something like that?”

“No, not really,” he shrugged. “I was called that at school, so I just took it. Bullies named me and created this nightmare.” And he hated it for so long but realized they can fear him just like he feared them. He became Scarecrow, he haunted their dreams and deep inside he still despised that name, but inside he also despised himself. However, he accepted it all. That’s who he was. A terror. A bad man.

“If only they knew,” Miranda chuckled.

Jonathan felt like there is something he’s forgetting. Maybe it was for the better. Miranda looked content with the situation she was in, although little stressed. But there weren’t any suitcases around, so that was a good sign. He didn’t want to mess that up. Unimportant things can wait, he will remember later.

“I’m glad you didn’t run,” he changed the topic.

“Don’t say it twice, it can still happen,” she warned him. “I just have books to keep me busy.”

“Let me know if you do, I will try to stop you.”

“Now, that’s brave, Mr. Crane.”

Jonathan leaned to her and kissed her. Every time he did that, he realized how lucky he was. He didn’t deserve this. Not after what he has done and what kind of person he has become. To have a woman like Miranda was a miracle. They both were equally damaged and messed up. He was thankful.

When he touched her, she suddenly backed off. “Wait, no, stop.” Painful expression on her face made him nervous.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just… I’m a mess, can you please not touch me?”

What was happening here? She left him baffled. Jonathan wanted answers but only thing he managed was to say: “Of course,” unsure if he did something wrong. Miranda had to see it in his expression. She climbed on his lap, carefully not to lean on him with her body.

“Do you trust me?” she asked looking him in the eyes closely.

“I have questions.”

“I will not answer them now. Do you trust me?”

Jonathan sighed. “I want to.”

“Good. Let me do my things and I promise all will be okay, yes?”

“You are acting weird.”

She kissed him instead of answering. The talk was over for now. He wasn’t satisfied with this approach. It was Miranda who always insisted on making things clear between them. She was the one who forced him to accept his feelings and fears. This was uncomfortable again. The League couldn’t have broken her this much, could it? Or was it his fault for being pushy earlier? Did he managed to finally mess up? Expected.

“Jonathan, I love you,” she whispered into his ear. “You are handsome and clever and weird.” She ran her fingers through his hair and smiled as she made a mess of his looks. “I promised not to hurt you, remember?”

“I know, Miranda.” Jonathan fought the need to ruffle his hair back as it was. She kept his focus, caressing his face, kissing him passionately. Soon it took all his thoughts away. There was only here, nothing else mattered. Nothing wrong was going on if she still loved him, right?

She moved her hand to his neck and his shirt. Unbuttoned the collar.

“Miranda,” he stopped her. She looked at him waiting. His heart raced partially from excitement and partially from coming panic. “Slowly, please.”

Miranda smiled at him and kissed him again, hands gently laid on his chest. Taking her time to carefully remove his shirt. Her gaze went down, Jonathan took her chin and straightened her head. “To my eyes, Miranda.” Was his voice trembling? _Fuck! Calm down._

“As you wish, professor,” Miranda replied giving him back some sense of control. He was thankful, but the tight feeling in his chest didn’t go away. The scars weren’t as bad as hers. Rational part of his mind told him there is just few and far between and they are not even that nasty. But his rationality was killed years ago. Only insecurity stayed laughing at him every time he looked at himself in the mirror, eyes tracing the places crows tore his meat off.

“Talk to me,” he asked. Shun the voice away.

“You’ll never guess,” Miranda started slowly while touching his neck and running her fingers on his collar bone, “how did I pick up the first name. Try, you have three.”

“Child games, really?” he scoffed. Goose bumps ran on his arms as she slid her finger lower to his chest, caressing his skin. “Okay. It’s also a reference to someone famous.”

She shook her head, she never broke the eye contact, sweet Miranda. After the months he knew she will do whatever he tells her and yet, he was so glad she is not trying to step over his boundary. She could.

“No, wrong.” Jonathan lost his breath as her finger came across one of the scars. It didn’t stop there, as if his skin wasn’t damaged by the feathered beasts.

“Ah-well,” he stumbled his way through words, “your relative had this name?”

“In Siberia? I doubt it,” Miranda grinned. “I don’t even know my relatives. My parents could be cat and dog for all I know.”

“Are you Russian?”

“I am nothing. But I speak Russian, Mongolia, Chinese, English, …”

“Please, stop, you will put me to shame,” he joked. His panic rose anytime she touched one of those ugly skin covered holes, but other than that, he calmed down and just enjoyed her company.

“That would be first,” Miranda said amused by herself.

“I don’t really think you are an idiot, you know?”

“Thank you, Jonathan. You are horribly wrong,” she laughed. “Come on, how did I get my name?”

The realization hit him like a train and he laughed with her.

“You opened a name list randomly.”

“Yes!” Happiness shined from her face. “See! Idiot! I could have been Jeff.”

“I would love you even as Jeff.”

She kissed him again and unzipped his pants. She moved carefully, even smallest movement caused her pain and questions entered Jonathan’s mind again. She tucked her skirt.

“Next time I will kiss you whole, if you let me,” she leaned to his ear again.

“Maybe if you beg me hard enough,” he whispered back. Miranda chuckled and led him inside her. “God,” he breathed out as she took him.

“There is no God here, only Jeff!”

“Oh, shut it!”

The slowness of her action was gone. Miranda moved on him, loving him as wildly as ever before. Her insides were tense around his dick, the warmth and wetness welcomed him. He wished she was naked, and he could see her and touch her, but holding her face was enough for now.

His heart was racing; her moans gave him pleasure. Their loving was fast. Few more strokes and Jonathan overwhelmed by all of this came hard. He gasped while Miranda was playing with his hair, smile on her face.

“Have I ever told you, you are amazing?” he asked when he caught his composure.

“No,” she grinned.

He chuckled and then raised his eyebrows. “You didn’t cum.”

She caught his hands. “Nu-uh. Not today. Next time.”

Jonathan frowned. “That’s the second time you put me to shame, Jeff.”

“Now you shut it!”

One last kiss and then Miranda left for a bathroom. Jonathan wondered whether she is wounded. What did she do while he was consumed by work? Any why would she hide it? He knew she kills people, what could be worse than that? Stealing antiques? It didn’t sound like her at all. It must have been something else. Something so bad he can’t know.

A phone on the table buzzed. Without thinking, Jonathan took it and read the message. Too late he realized he is not home, and the phone isn’t his.

“I hope I didn’t break you too much, love.”

Another buzz.

“Call me.”

Jonathan looked at it baffled. The phone went dark and it stayed locked together with answers. “What the fuck?” he mumbled. The meaning of the messages couldn’t settle in his brain. Did he read that right? What did Miranda do? Who the fuck was this guy? What did they do?

Trust?

Disgusting!

Never trust a fucking whore!

He grabbed his things and slammed the door on the way out.


	5. Chapter 5

“Motherfucker,” Miranda grumbled under her breath. Jonathan’s phone was dead, the message was obvious. What could have anger him this much? Miranda had her suspicion and the ridiculousness of the whole situation made her pissed. Not only was he snooping around, he also couldn’t even stay and ask a question? _Fucking Jonathan, is that the genius you claim to be, you damn baby?_ His theatrics annoyed her before, but now he just stepped over the line with his damn stalking. He deserved thinking whatever he did!

Sitting in her living room, body burning in pain, she grinded her teeth. What the fuck, that idiot. Was she really that untrustworthy? What did she do wrong?

Nothing! This reaction is on him, she was fair!

“Motherfucker!” she shouted angrily and took her phone out again.

The other side picked up immediately.

“What do you need, Constantine?” she asked calmly, focusing at the most important thing at the moment. It wasn’t Jonathan. She can deal with him later, if she deems it worth it.

“I found the last ingredient, if you feel like going for it, love,” answered Constantine.

“It hurts like hell,” she whispered unsure whether she talks about her body or the betrayal.

“I warned you.”

“I know. Tell me.”

***

The anger grew stronger by the minute. Jonathan moved around the lab making small silly mistakes that threw him into worse and worse rage. How dares she? Takes away his dignity and now his focus too! “Fuck this,” he grumbled to the vial with wrong amount of liquid.

“You should drink some tea to calm your nerves,” Jervis giggled.

“Shut up!”

Jervis sat in the corner of the lab. Somewhere he got small chair and table and he prepared whole tea set with kettle, biscuits and tiny cups. Only thing missing was a teddy bear. Jonathan counted seconds, ready to flip the table if Jervis only looks at him funny.

He slammed his fists on the table. _Focus, Jonathan! One bitch won’t destroy your work. She doesn’t matter!_

Miranda…

Damn her!

Was he not good enough? Was he a bad fuck? She was just playing with him, eating his feelings like succubus, cutting his life, energy and trust. She never liked him. Who could’ve? Bitch!

Stumbling around dissatisfied with everything his mind was running. Formulas and amounts of necessary components tangled together with Miranda’s voice asking him, if he trusts her.

He had to sit down. _Calm down. Focus._

That’s how Khulan found him, strict look on her face. “How is the work proceeding?”

“Well,” he snapped annoyed. “Your flying monkeys work overtime.” That made Jervis in the corner chuckle. Jonathan will stuff the kettle into his throat!

“You need to hurry up; Ra’s al Ghul wants to fasten the production.”

“Ra’s al Ghul can come here and say it to me himself.”

“Watch your tongue, doctor,” master Khulan warned him.

“Your self-important attitude doesn’t scare me,” he snapped. “It’s easy to order around, but the work has system! You brainwashed morons couldn’t know!”

“You…” Khulan reached for her dagger, Jonathan held his toxin bracelet up. The imminent disaster stopped Jervis who jumped between them.

“Everybody please, hide your weapons,” he asked in happy tone. “Excuse my good crow friend, dear scary master,” he giggled. “He is angrier than Red Queen herself since his Banshee left him.”

“Shut up, Hatter!”

“Or he left her,” Jervis continued.

Khulan straightened her back, frowning at the short man. “What did you say?”

Jonathan moaned frustrated and turned back to his work. The last thing he needed was to speak about Miranda to the…

League?

“His dear Alice is no more,” Tetch was babbling. “Even though she was hardly Alice, maybe her eyes, but dark, dark lady she is indeed. Scary, always hidden in the shadows, killing like one of your ninjas.”

“Banshee,” Khulan repeated.

Jonathan lost his breath. Small puzzle pieces fell together with loud snap. He found what he forgot and realized what just happened.

_Good! Let her rot!_

_No, that’s…_

Khulan smiled at Jervis and her smile could freeze people alive. “Tell me, Mr. Tetch, where do I find this Banshee?”

Cold has run on Jonathan’s back.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

***

Miranda was lucky, if whatever happened these last few days could have been considered luck. Sadness and anger she left behind her. There will be enough time to wallow in feelings (is this really why she looked for them so hard? Just to suffer?). Right now she had more important matters.

Gotham museum could challenge the best prisons she has ever seen. Constant destruction and robberies forced the city to invest in good security system. Miranda never was a tech-savvy, but she was Banshee. Making loud noise was her jam.

Hidden in shadows she moved around the building. Silent alarm had to be on already, she moved fast, going exactly where Constantine sent her. The work was quick. She got to glass display of old Irish artefacts.

‘Violence is always the answer’ was a motto she lived by. Miranda broke the glass with a baton. The silent alarm switched, now it was screaming. Whole building was screeching, honking like crazy. In the shards a bracelet was waiting, decorated with runes and pictures of snakes and branches.

She grabbed it and screamed. The gold burned, so did her whole body. Every part of the skin Constantine touched was boiling. She couldn’t let go, she tucked her hand in, but the gold fried onto her fingers. The bracelet melted, the gold liquid found its way on her hand, up to the wrist, and burned in her skin.

The bracelet disappeared. A scar of gold stayed around her wrist.

“Fuck!” she hissed painfully on her knees. “Next time warn me, you jerk.”

She stumbled her way back. The police ran by her without noticing her in the shadows. She slipped right by them, skin still pulsing in pain. _Why did she ever agree to this? Ha, as if! Why did she ever decide this?_

Home sweet home. In light she could finally look at the new scar. The burn lost its red colour. Now it looked like grey and gold tattoo, pulsing, burning. “Cool,” she mumbled. Will it work? Hand trembling, she dialled John.

“You could have told me I will get attacked by jewellery!”

“You are welcome, pet. It’s the last thing you needed.”

She bit her lip thinking. “Thanks, Constantine. I owe you one.”

“I will summon you if necessary. You remember the rules. Don’t die, Bradbury.”

Don’t die. She wanted this. She built this up for a month and half. Stealing, killing, hurting, cooperating with John fucking Constantine. Just so she didn’t die. So she knows more and knows better. So if the League ever came back…

And it did. Sooner than she anticipated.

With a sigh she took down her weapons and set them on the table. Sleep is what her body and mind needed. Long, deep sleep. In her experience, it solved many things. In the morning she will know what to do with Jonathan. How to deal with danger in the city.

Her plans got interrupted by knock on the door.

She hid a knife in her palm. Who would come here now? The knock came again, more desperate than the first one. Slowly, she opened.

Jonathan stood there, guilty look in his eyes. Miranda clenched her teeth. Brave of him to come here after that theatre. Stabbing him between the eyes sounded nice.

“What do you want? Calmed down, huh?” she snapped.

“I’m sorry, Miranda. I overreacted,” he apologized.

“Overreacted? You are a jerk, that’s what you are. Goodbye.”

He held the door so she couldn’t close it. Playing with fire, she was so close to smack his fingers in the frame.

“What do you want?”

“Let me in, I will tell you.”

Should she listen to him? Give him a chance? Why? He went out of his way because of one stupid message. He didn’t even have balls to ask!

Maybe he gathered them now?

“Fuck you,” she hissed and went back to living room. He followed, looking around curiously. His gaze stopped at pictures on her wall. He never noticed them before. “Well? Speak!”

“I’m sorry, darling, I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusion,” he said gesturing apologetically, faint smile on his face. Miranda’s anger rose. What was he playing? “I hoped to made this right.”

“Oh? How?”

“However you ask,” he held his hands to her.

Miranda frowned. Something smelled fishy. “What did I do to you? Answer.”

“Nothing, and I know that now.”

“I see. You will do anything I ask?”

“Yes.”

Miranda tucked her hair behind ear. Then she smiled. “You beg on your knees for forgiveness, Johny-boy, just like last time you fucked up. And I will consider your request.”

Jonathan didn’t hesitate to go down.

Neither did she. One swift kick to the side of his head. This wasn’t Jonathan. Send him to the land of unconscious and question that fucker later!

But this she didn’t expect.

Her leg hit his face. She expected hard surface.

Leg went through. It burrowed in the face like a mud. Miranda shouted in shock and staggered.

“What the fuck?” she screamed.

Wet bubbling came out of Jonathan’s body as it crumbled under its own weight into pool of mud. It didn’t splash on the floor but formed into humanoid shape. The mud golem grinned with yellow teeth.

“What gave me away?” the mud asked.

Miranda took a step back. _Fuck, fuck, fuck. Gotham, what the fuck is that? Weapons!_

She threw her dagger.

With a laugh the mud swallowed it inside its body with wet sound. No good!

Golem grabbed at her. She dodged. His arm stretched and caught her anyway. Hugged her body like a disgusting wet strait jacket. “Let go!” No strength could get her out. She tried to kick to no avail, he was too far away.

“Master Khulan wants to speak with you,” Golem said.

Miranda’s head gone light as if he forced every ounce of oxygen out of her. That name stabbed her heart. Khulan. In Gotham. And she knew about Miranda. How? HOW!

Jonathan.

“No!” her tries to wiggle loose were for nothing. “No! Kill me! Do it!” The mud surrounded her face stopping her screams leaving a taste of cemetery in her mouth. Tears formed in her eyes. No! Not to them! How the fuck could he?

She can’t die.

She doesn’t want to die!

Table! Weapons! Close enough. _Now, Miranda, no time to waste!_

She kicked. The leg hit one of the sound mines and activated it. Loud noise and rhythm in low frequency filled the room. She felt it resonate in her head, teeth hurt, heart couldn’t decide how to beat.

Golem screamed as his arm fell off. Whatever held the mud together broke apart and the mud slid down and splat on the floor. With every beat it got flatter and turned into liquid.

Miranda spit the mud. She grabbed the gun and the rest of the sound mines.

Window behind her broke. On the carpet fell burning bottle.

“Shit!”

Door in front of her burst in flames.

Shadows moved in the flat, out of balance from the sound.

Miranda activated the second sound mine. Every normal human this would sent to unconsciousness. And it did. League’s assassins screamed and fell silent. Miranda wobbled to the door, blood spurting out of her nose. She jumped the fire and ran out, finding her tempo. Behind her sound mines screamed and loudly cracking fire was swallowing everything she owned.

“Fuck you! Fuck!” she grinded her teeth. They knew about her. Jonathan told them about her. To Khulan of all people! What now?

While running, she called Terry.

“What is it, boss? It’s night.”

“Don’t go to the shop, Terry, understand?” she ordered, hardly catching her breath.

“What?”

“Don’t!”

“Okay, okay. What is…”

She ignored them and kept running.


	6. Chapter 6

Nygma’s plan was amazing, simply superb! He created a set of traps not even the biggest geniuses could solve! Sharp spikes, electric fences, guns, that all wrapped neatly behind puzzles and riddles. Not even the greatest detective will get to him!

Great victory for the Riddler! He could celebrate now, but he decided to keep it for later. He will dance to mock the Batman! He will show all of them his superiority! Jump on his grave! Livestream it to all homes, to the whole world! He could almost taste the victory. The Riddler, man who took down the Bat!

“Nygma!”

Edward turned around, shocked.

“W-What?”

Dark shadow was approaching him, held him at gunpoint.

How!? Impossible! Nobody was supposed to get here!

He yelped as Banshee held the gun to his neck and pinned him to the wall. There was blood all over her face, not hers. She was muddy, bleeding, shirt on left arm torn, clean cut under the tear. She had maniacal look in her eyes.

“B-Banshee, you shouldn’t be here,” he stuttered.

“I had a baaaad day, Nygma, you better talk,” she hissed. “Where is the League?”

“I-I don’t know, I wasn’t told!”

She painfully pushed the gun more to him. He chocked.

“I really…”

“You are the genius; you better start using your brain!”

“Agh! Killer Croc knows sewers u-under Narrows! They wouldn’t ask for his help anywhere else!”

“That’s still miles to search.”

“I can’t give you more, Banshee, I don’t know, I swear!” he wheezed.

She clenched her teeth angry and took away the gun. Edward stumbled, holding his neck. The fear left him as fast as Banshee let him go, instead anger caught him. She ridiculed him in front of his mental audience!

“You bitch, you will pay for this!”

“Shut your trap, Nygma, your puzzles are stupid.”

***

They caught up with her at toyshop. Bad for them – her arsenal was there, hidden properly in the backroom. Miranda got out with just a few bruises. She was considering her options.

How to get out of the city fast and unseen?

Where should she go so the League won’t find her?

Now they knew she was alive, will she ever be safe?

Two guns, some bullets. A dagger, a sword. And five sound mines. She was horribly underprepared for anything. Running is the best option.

Hunted forever.

“No,” she whispered. “No, it’s not worth it.”

Khulan will never stop the hunt. Master was the most headstrong person in existence. Failure wasn’t an option and Miranda being alive was evidence of Khulan’s mistake. She will want to erase Miranda under any circumstances.

Master must die.

So must Jonathan.

Now in the sewers she started to doubt her decision. Whatever she was going to do, results were the same. Miranda will die here. If she doesn’t drown in shit, she will get killed by the League, or eaten by the Croc, or her body will just give up after long torture.

She carried on anyways. Stank of sewers was horrible. Narrows were the worst part of the city, so she imagined even the sewers will hold this prime. A ghetto, full of drug dealers, addicts, poor people, everyone in one big pile of misfortune and dirt, couldn’t have nice sewage. And at the top of that all, like the king of the hill – Arkham Asylum.

Whatever curse left Arkham, it rooted in Narrows, making it worse every day. Miranda kept away from Narrows unless work called her here. Not that she was a coward; she just considered it stupid to walk into shark’s mouth willy-nilly.

Or Croc’s mouth.

After what felt like forever she reached an enclave with something looking like a nest, and smelling like rotting butcher’s shop. Pieces of furniture, newspapers, feathers, that all almost neatly built into bedding. Miranda coughed, the source of the smell was pile of rotting bodies in the corner. Ha, not a butcher’s shop, but the butcher.

“Croc!” she shouted. “Where are you?”

_Is that your plan?_

_Do you have better one, reason? I’m listening._

_…_

_I thought so._

She walked at the end of the tunnel. No signs of giant crocodile. He might be anywhere in this maze. So might be the League. Fucking hell, Europe would be beautiful this time of year. She would visit vineyards in France and then Germany. She’s heard that Bavaria is great. Sun, meadows, booze, no stink or dark places. She’d drink whole day, she would sing and get to know new people. This time she would find someone who isn’t paranoid. Someone normal. If anyone normal would have her.

Disruption of the water caught her attention.

Second later a monster leaped from the depths, maw ready to gnaw Miranda alive.

Miranda jumped out of the way. Croc hit the wall and stayed visible out of water. Yellow fish eyes staring right at her. He growled. Miranda had to convince every nerve in her body to not start shooting.

“Waylon Jones,” she said and kept her distance as Croc drew nearer to her. “I’m sorry to disturb you. I am looking for the League.”

“What’s in it for you, fresh meat?” he grumbled.

_Woah, a compliment! What a gentleman! Maybe she could date cannibal crocodiles!_

_Focus!_

“I’m looking for Scarecrow.”

“Of course you are.”

Miranda contemplated her surroundings. Croc has been trying to corner her slowly. So far she always slipped to side tunnel, but this dance cannot go on forever. _Act, Miranda!_

“I want to kill him. Do you wanna tell me where he is?”

Croc had no interest at all. Drool dropped from his mouth.

“And the League too. Imagine the amounts of meat when I am done with them!”

“Mmm,” agreed Croc eyeing her.

Yeah, no…

“Tell me where they are, or I will blow your fucking brain out!”

“I won’t.”

He jumped her again grunting loudly. Miranda stumbled on wet bricks, took out the gun and shot at that bloody, monstrous face. Croc screamed and fell into the water.

“The bigger they are…”

He disappeared.

“Fuck!”

Miranda looked around dark muddy water. Where is he? Did he swim away? Is he waiting?

Carefully and slowly she moved. What now? What were here options other than being a lunch?

Lunch?

Gun still ready she made her way back to the nest. There was one clue she needed to investigate. The rotting bodies kept there were in different stages of decay. Bright vests of sewer workers were drenched in blood and moved as worms ate the meat. Next corpse was police officer – wait, no. The uniform of the freshest corpse has visible A on it. Miranda looked closer. Arkham guard.

Arkham? Could the League operate under the asylum? Jonathan once told her the building had very deep foundation, reaching into a cave system hidden under the city. Rumours were that the founders of the asylum went little crazy themselves and used the underground for a lot of weird things.

Splash! Water behind her rose in wave and Croc grabbed her by shoulders. Miranda ducked and slipped away, Crocs claws cut her. She yelped, ignored the bleeding and shot at him again. Croc laughed as if the bullets were just annoying flies.

“You are trespassing, meat!”

Miranda gasped for breath and ran. One lady ninja is faster than one giant crocodile, right?

Waves following her spoke different.

“Fuck!”

Ladder! She jumped on it and started climbing.

Giant hand caught her leg.

“No!” Miranda slipped, stopped her fall by hanging by the elbow. Screaming. Croc was pulling hard, claws deep in her meat. He will tear her leg off!

In last effort, she activated the mine and threw it. Croc screamed in shock. In the tunnel the sound echoed of the walls. He let go off her leg. Miranda climbed out, the noise followed and then it end abruptly as Croc destroyed the bell.

Street! Fresh air! Miranda stumbled out, on the verge of fainting. Run! Hide! She got to the closest dark alley, blood oozing from her leg. _Fuck! Way to alert whole League, Miranda! Banshee, but this time, you will be the one dying! Stupid bitch! Couldn’t you make your weapons any louder?_

She tore off her sleeve and patched the leg. That stopped the worst bleeding. Miranda sat by the wall fighting the pain. Her body burnt, her leg pulsated… _And you want to face the League like this? You are insane!_

She couldn’t stay at one place for long. Moaning, she got up, limping through the street. Her wound made her an easy target, but sword on her back stopped anyone from bothering her.

Somehow, she made it to the asylum. No assassin was waiting at the gates of the area. There were three buildings connected to each other, all in typical Gotham style. Dark, broody, only thing missing was rain, evil lightning, and Adams family.

No wonder Jonathan liked to work here. It was perfect environment. Fear inducing. Patients had to hate it.

Fuck Jonathan, he can die!

Miranda climbed the fence, not sure where she wants to go. The property was silent, eerie in cold air. _What now? Will you just walk and demand they let you underground? Elevator ride to hell!_

Calm down. Take it one step at the time.

Step one – find a guard.

Step two – make them take you down.

Step three – don’t die.

Miranda limped to the entrance. No way she can hide herself effectively like this. For a while maybe. Not properly.

Behind the glass in the office sat a guard. She was well built dark lady and she looked at Miranda intensely. The closer Miranda got, the worse feeling she had. Right at the glass she understood why.

The look was empty. Pupils dilated. The guard was drugged.

“Hi,” tried Miranda.

Nothing.

“I am from the League, understand?” she continued.

“Yes,” agreed the woman.

“Take me to… my leader.”

Guard smiled and opened the caged door with a buzz. Miranda amazed by the situation followed. “Wait,” she realized. “Do you have something for pain?”

Ten minutes later they were in the elevator and Miranda could finally stand at least bit straight. She couldn’t believe her luck, but she didn’t celebrate just yet. Drugged guard was evidence of the League being here. _Down, down, down we go to the belly of the beast!_

The light of the elevator buttons showed the last floor – basement, but the elevator kept going. Miranda swallowed, throat stiff. The lower they went, the more terrified she got.

The door opened.

Any fight Miranda had, left her. She sighed and leaned her back on the elevator wall.

“Welcome, Miss Bradbury,” said the Demon’s head. “I’ve been expecting you.”

***

“Sit down.”

In silence she did what the Demon’s head ordered. Ra’s sat across her. They walked here through foundations of the asylum. Long pillars and cat walks brought them to this cave that was already turned to sort of living quarters. League members were breaking a wall at the far end in perfect rhythm as if they all attended a music seminar.

They didn’t even bother taking her weapons That’s what she was for them. Useless. Safe. This broken tool won’t hurt anyone. Definitely not the Demon’s head.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” he started.

“Hardly.”

“Master Khulan agreed your hunt with me, you can say I know you better than yourself.”

Miranda rubbed her eyes. “And?”

“I wanted to see the legend herself. You survived the survival’s curse and avoided us for a decade. I must say, I am disappointed with your approach.”

“I didn’t come here to impress.”

“Why did you come?”

“To kill Khulan.”

Rhythmical beating of hammers and pickaxes echoed through the cave. Ra’s looked their way from time to time in anticipation. This closely he looked like friendly uncle. Miranda smirked under that idea. Friendly uncle ready to destroy your soul.

“Curious, isn’t it, what is one person ready to sacrifice for their goals,” Ra’s said eyes pinned on the wall. “You came here ready to die just so you reach peace.”

“And you?”

“That’s it, isn’t it? Why did I come here?”

“To destroy the city.”

Ra’s smiled. “If only life was this simple.” He turned back to her and she realized he is… old. The wrinkles around his eyes got deep, the whites were ugly yellow colour, his lips pale and cheeks lost his shape. Ra’s al Ghul was dying.

“I will let you fight Khulan. Under her own rules.”


	7. Chapter 7

Jonathan Crane was his own prisoner. Until now he didn’t even think about the League and what it wanted. He focused on the work given to him and the reward he will gather after everything is done. Now the hard reality hit him since Khulan turned to him with all those questions.

“You have two choices, think about it,” she told him. “Where do I find this Banshee?”

And so, he chose.

“I won’t tell you shit, she is mine.”

Khulan with ugly smile took out a long needle. “Wrong choice.”

Now he sat in the lab, pain running through his body, angry. The flying monkey worked on formulas, Khulan left and Miranda will die, because pain is not his friend. He promised himself he will take revenge, but two sets of ninja eyes were following his every movement.

_You only gave them address and name, Miranda can get away._

_Why do you care? She is a traitor._

_Miranda will be fine. You’ve seen it. They sent the woman. Clayface always was a horrible actor._

Jonathan stood up. He can’t do anything else now than wait, so it wasn’t necessary to be lost in thoughts. Back to work. Jervis in the corner watched him over teacup and he looked at the brink of crying. He couldn’t sit still, bounced on the chair like a March hare. Finally, he stumbled towards Jonathan.

“I’m sorry, friend. Can I offer you peace tea?”

Jonathan looked at him through vial. “You can stop sticking your long nose into my business, Hatter. If you learnt to keep your mouth shut, I wouldn’t be hurt right now.”

“Apology came too late?”

Jonathan set down the chemical and leaned over the small man. “You’ve killed Alice, Jervis. And you’ve made Bandersnatch angry.”

Jervis yelped like bitten by venomous snake. He hid his deformed face under the hat. Then, slowly he looked over the edge. “I will fix it. I will.”

“Will you?” Jonathan said darkly.

“I will!”

“Very well,” Jonathan smiled. He took a vial out of his costume and set it on the table. The liquid in it was clear, thicker than water. “Drink this.”

Jervis’ eyes rose wide and teary. “Don’t be mad, you don’t want to poison your good friend in a hat!”

Two flying monkeys didn’t move a muscle to stop him or to try to save Hatter. No fear of losing one of their specialists. We are expendable for the League, realized Jonathan. Easily gained work force, not easily replaceable, but unnecessary in the grand scheme.

“My anger will draw nigh, you better shriek in despair, it is useless to fly,” grumbled Jonathan towering over him. He showed his teeth frowning. “Drink!” he ordered.

Shaking Jervis took the vial and poured it into his teacup. The crockery dinged as he drew it near his mouth. “Friend…”

“Do it.”

Whimpering he drank the liquid, tears flowing on his face. Bravely he blew his nose. “Will my friend attend my funeral?”

“Don’t be dramatic, Jervis,” Jonathan scoffed and put on his mask. “When did I ever hurt you?”

“You spilled my tea once.”

“I spilled the tea once! Will I ever hear the end of it?” Jonathan opened a valve on the chemical set. Before the ninjas could react, room got filled with the gas. Jervis looked around and laughed amazed.

“Clear head!”

“Get them.”

Jervis jumped on the table. “Gather round, gather round, good soldiers!” he giggled. “Bandersnatch has a task for you!” The assassins stopped working on drugs and turned to Mad Hatter in unison. Like drones they followed his words and surrounded the table. From one control to other. Jonathan argued they would have much more fulfilling and interesting lives under Jervis’ rule.

“Has any of you know what’s happening here?” asked Jonathan. “Speak up.”

Soldiers looked at him baffled. One of them finally blinked.

“The heir. We are looking for the Demon’s head’s heir.”

“He will take his place.”

“The great detective.”

More pieces of puzzle snapped together.

“You cannot just convince Batman to lead organization of assassins. How?” continued Jonathan.

“One of us.”

“He will take the place.”

“Drug the soldiers, drug the people.”

“Make him kill. Make him kill. Make him kill.” The chanting got faster and louder. It took Jonathan’s breath away. Sheer fanatism broke even his drug.

“Jervis.”

“Sleep!” ordered Hatter.

The army fell on ground with loud thuds. Jonathan forced the puzzles together. “Fuck.”

“What matters your tongue so dearly?” asked Jervis.

“I am not sure,” Jonathan mumbled. The Arkham was drugged, under its foundations the League was building and looking for something. They needed enough gas to fill the entire Narrows. “I think they plan to make new League base here and they want Batman to lead it.”

Jervis frowned. “How did you figure such devious plan, Bandersnatch?”

“Listen – the took their masters here. Ra’s al Ghul is in the city, we all know he has weird competition with the Bat. They want to drug all these soldiers and make him kill them somehow. Then… Then I don’t know.”

“And we will help to madden their minds and break the Bat,” realized Jervis.

“Yeah.”

“Oh no, no, no,” frowned Jervis. “I don’t like that at all. Bat is ours to break. If the friend is right, we must hurry up and plan.”

“No worries, Jervis, I already have a plan.”

***

Miranda promised herself she won’t get angry.

Then she saw the face that tormented her for years.

She got horribly angry.

“A lost girl found the way home. Here I thought you died long ago, but you aren’t even clever enough to fake your death.”

“Fuck you, you old ugly bitch!” Miranda snapped.

Khulan stood there with mouth agape. Nobody has ever dared what Miranda just did. It felt great to tell that witch what she thinks. If she dies, she will die smiling just for this occasion.

“I would cut your tongue out, if the Demon’s head didn’t promise you fair fight.”

“Fight under your rules will hardly be fair,” Miranda scoffed. “You love fucking people over.”

Khulan couldn’t keep her cool. Miranda insulted her in front of her soldiers like it was nothing.

“Useless girl like you has only strong tongue and nothing else. You might have survived our curse, but you will die in this battle. You’ve insulted me enough.”

Set of soldiers escorted them to a fighting field. Hundreds of assassins were gathered here ready to watch the fight. One of them took Miranda’s weapons away. She looked at where he is going to put them but lost him in the crowd. She will miss her bells.

“You will serve as an example. This is what happens to defector,” Khulan announced.

“Do you ever get tired of your voice?”

Khulan smiled and threw a sword on the ground. “I am sure you remember this training.”

“Are you mocking me?” hissed Miranda.

“Fight me.”

Yes, Miranda remembered. She’s failed this task dozen times before. It’s so easy. Just pick up the sword and cut your opponent. If you can do it, you’ve won.

Dozen times. Maybe hundred. Every time she did something good, learnt something new, master came and threw the sword on the ground. To kick her low when she was high. Every happiness was followed by hard fall. Success and punishment.

Like when she fell from the roof and broke her ribs.

Like when she killed all those targets and they called her Banshee.

Like now when she survived their curse and Khulan plans to kick her down again.

Like when she was happy with Jonathan and…

_Are you going to fight or what? Kick her sorry ass, Miranda. You can do this!_

_Thank you, reason, finally some useful advice._

Miranda breathed slowly. Going head on never worked. Some other way, different strategy to get through this witch. The rules were simple – you can hit your opponent only with the sword and she cannot attack you unless you attempt to take the blade. Miranda felt it necessary to follow these rules. To make a point. And also because master kicked her ass before when she tried to break them by attacking her head first. Even now Khulan waited with hands folded behind her back confident in her skill. Show-off.

“Years hasn’t been kind to you, master,” Miranda smirked. Nothing was written in the rules about insulting your foe. Khulan watched her silently. “Are you sure you are not going senile? Are you up for this?”

Just patient stare. Miranda cussed on the inside. How is she always so focused? Fucking masters deserving their shitty title! Meanwhile Miranda was overwhelmed, tired, scared, angry and in pain. Her patience couldn’t go any lower.

Miranda went head on. Tried to grab the sword.

Master kicked her hand away.

“Fuck,” Miranda hissed.

“You didn’t learn a thing, girl,” smirked Khulan.

“I have a name, you bitch!”

“Oh yes. Mi-ran-da,” master spat every syllable. “Makes you feel like a person, does it? Your boyfriend told us all.”

“He is next on the list.”

“Ah, I should have brought him here to watch you die then.”

Miranda went for a sword with her feet. Kick it up and grab it.

Khulan was faster. She stepped on the blade and roundhoused Miranda to the side. Miranda screamed. Burning intensified. Khulan added a small kick to her ankle.

Miranda fell on her knee. Croc’s cut started bleeding again. Fuck this!

She didn’t stay down. She went for it again and again. And over and over she got dominated. Khulan’s counter attacks grew stronger and more ruthless. Miranda heard her ribs crack again. She bit her lip and was bleeding. Her head pounded.

No closer to the victory.

“Fuck you,” Miranda grumbled.

“Insults. That’s all you have left, girl. You are weak, pathetic. Shame of the League. You shouldn’t have survived, it was pure luck. You don’t have any skill worth talking about. You are just Banshee. A clumsy killer. Anyone could be that.”

“Shut up!”

“Angry? Strike me down then. Show me I am wrong!”

Miranda clenched her fist. How? She can’t win this. She cannot beat Khulan in her own game. How the fuck…

She remembered the old fat fuck that loved torturing bad girls so much. He always laughed when she came to him. “Master sent me.”

“Pick a whip.”

First few times he didn’t say a word. On the tenth time he laughed in her face.

“You are afraid of pain, Banshee.”

“No shit.”

“You always pick the smallest one. Life without pain goes nowhere, you are a coward, kid.”

That fat fuck had a point in his own sick, twisted way. She avoided getting hurt too much and never moved out of place. That’s why she was afraid of death or being truthful. It could have brought more pain.

But she was someone else now. Miranda Bradbury survived fight with ghosts! She would kick the fat fuck to the balls and send him flying off cliff. Khulan the witch has nothing on her!

Sword. Go for it. Grab at it.

Khulan counters.

Dodge. Grab again.

Master expects it. She counters again. Misses.

Miranda grabbed the sword by the blade. Sharp iron cut into her fingers.

Khulan gasped surprised.

Yes! Miranda got the sword! She fucking got it!

Then Khulan lost her stance, used her arms. She grabbed the hilt and pulled.

Miranda screamed as blade slipped from her hand. She fell on her knee, blood flowing out of stomps her fingers used to be. She shouted louder, holding her palm to stop the bleeding.

“Clever,” commented Khulan. “And useless. This fight is over, girl.”

Miranda hyperventilated. No! No, no, no! She can’t die, not like this, no! Fuck!

Khulan stood in front of her, sword ready to strike. Miranda looked at her, trembling. _No, no, I don’t want to die. No!_

“Miranda!”

Jonathan stood there at the end of the room.

“Just in time. Any final words, girl?”

Miranda took her shirt off as slowly as pain allowed her. She rolled it around her hand as a bandage. It soaked the blood in and drenched almost immediately. Khulan looked at her with happy spark in her eyes.

“Yes,” Miranda said with scarred voice. “There is someone who wants to see you again.”

She ripped her charm off.

Deep in underground of the Arkham asylum started hell.


	8. Chapter 8

Two months ago, Miranda Bradbury survived sure death and got the ghosts that tormented her locked up again. John Constantine told her she should be safe now, nobody can take her charm away. It was one of the happiest moments of her life despite almost dying.

Seven weeks ago, her nightmares started. The dream reminded her that she can never truly win. Night after night she fell to the snow with crack in her ears. She didn’t really win against ghosts, she just took their power. Locked them in jail. But she was an example of the fact that no jail is unbreakable.

Six weeks ago, she called Constantine. “You said there are other possibilities to get rid of the echo, remember?”

“Your charm isn’t working?”

“It is. I want more.”

“Listen, love, it’s not necessary. Enjoy life.”

“I can get anything you ask for. Help me.”

Five weeks ago, Constantine realized he needs her help. He could steal the artefact himself, but he promised to never go near this cult again and he didn’t want to lose his bollocks. So, Miranda helped and forced him to think about her problem by balancing the artefact over the sea.

One month ago, she got a list and instructions, and the possible results of ritual scared the hell out of her. “Survival chance is about thirty percent,” Constantine told her. She couldn’t tell Jonathan that, he would try to stop her and freak out. Throwing herself into unnecessary danger was her own decision and she didn’t need to discuss this with anyone. “Still want to do that, love?”

“Yes.”

For last month she looked for artefacts and magic tools. She learned very fast they are dangerous. Set of needles tried to acupuncture her to wall. Blessed powder kept teleporting any time she touched it and it brought her to more and more dangerous locations. Not to mention the archive. It was a miracle she survived all the encounters. It tired her greatly and being kept up by nightmares didn’t help.

“Last chance,” Constantine said last Saturday as she sat naked in the protection circle. “Do you understand the dangers? They will be yours, but once you die, you don’t go to heaven, you don’t burn in hell, you are stick for eternity as their property. Just an echo. It’s not worth it, Bradbury, they will cut your life anytime you give an order…”

“Stop talking and do it,” she stopped him.

Jonathan Crane didn’t know any of this. When he saw Miranda kneel in front of her master, panic rose in him. The blood spurting from her hand reminded him it’s his fault. She wasn’t supposed to be here; the League wasn’t supposed to know!

Then she took her shirt off and Jonathan stopped in his steps. He had no words. Miranda’s whole body was covered in tattoos of circles and runes. Witch gathering would gladly take her in their sisterhood. Jonathan’s brain couldn’t understand what he is seeing, the marks looked wobbly, as if they were moving on her skin.

Miranda tore her charm down. “No!” shouted Jonathan and then…

Then.

Jonathan Crane got scared.

The death scream came out of Miranda’s lips. Loud, high and terrifying. Her body surrounded by shadows, intensified this scream. They rose around her like lotus petals and broke into dozens of tendrils that whipped around. Black shadows were swallowing the light, they grew longer and blossomed into more parts.

And the voices from shadows screamed with Miranda.

“Khulan! Khulan!” Different voices, men and women, with hatred and intensity. “Die, die, die!”

“Master, take us back,” said Miranda in eerie voice. She stood up, bleeding and white, contrasting with darkness rising from her body, and made a step towards Khulan hands ready as in for a hug. “Here we are, lost children came back to your embrace.”

Sword fell on the ground. Khulan gasped loudly, stumbling backwards, away from the shadows. “No! I order you to get back!”

The shadows didn’t listen. Their screams echoed, filled the chamber.

“Kill her!” Khulan ordered. The soldiers ran straight at Miranda, weapons ready.

Bloodbath.

Sharp as a knife, the tendrils cut around, killing everyone trying to get near. Incredible speed made it look like they died in an instant. Heads, limbs, blood. Piercing screams of the victims were always cut short as tendrils found whoever survived and stabbed them in the face. One after other, precise cuts, precise stabs.

Jonathan heard Jervis yelp. “Friend, let’s run!” But Jonathan couldn’t move, so Jervis abandoned the ship without him.

Khulan stumbled back as Miranda was coming closer covered in blood of the fallen. Even the soldiers soon realized their fight is useless and started to run away. Shadows grabbed at them, kept catching them and crushing, choking, throwing against walls, all that while screaming in pain and anger.

“No!” Khulan fell over dead body. “No!”

Miranda knelt in front of her. In last desperate attempt Khulan hit her, but Miranda didn’t move a muscle. She was a statue, focused on one thing only. She took master’s face to her palms. Master gasped in fear.

“We love you, master, you gave us everything.”

Miranda opened her mouth.

“Nough…” Khulan’s scream was silenced. Shadows came out of Miranda’s mouth and went deep into master’s throat. She gurgled, hands unable to move. Slowly suffocated with panicked look in her eyes.

It took forever.

It took seconds.

Khulan collapsed on the floor, her face turned in fear. It will never change again. She will never train another assassin. She will never destroy more lives and crush souls. The evil witch is dead. In the valley of bodies and vengeance, Banshee rose, laughing like a madwoman. Nobody has seen her. Everyone ran.

Except for Jonathan.

With manic look in her eyes she took a step towards him like a tiger considering its options before it chokes its prey. Jonathan couldn’t move, his limbs froze, his mind blank. Shadows danced around Banshee like branches in the wind and they silenced their screams into a hum. One more step.

“Traitor!” she screamed. The echoes reminded him several times of his guild. One more step. “You die!”

Shadows snapped at him. Like whips they bended back and stroke.

None touched. They hit the ground around him. Dust rose, blood spurted everywhere. Ghosts began to scream again.

“I hate you!” yelled ghosts. “I hate you!”

She walked to him, screaming. So close he felt her breath on his face and saw tears running paths on her bloodied cheeks.

“You bastard!” She slapped him. The pain woke him up. His brain started working again. She hit him again. Third time he caught her hand.

“Let!” she demanded hysterically.

“You damn cow!” he hissed clutching her wrist hard. “You dare to call me a traitor?”

She gasped, two shadows grabbed him by shoulders and pulled him away. Now they stood two steps away from each other walking around like wild animals.

“You sold me! You knew what they will do, and you sold me, because you are an insecure piece of shit!” she shouted.

“Have you gone insane? I can kill you myself, I don’t need Ra’s al Ghul!”

“You told them!”

“Tetch told them! I can think when I am angry, unlike you with your stupid hysterics!”

“Oh, can you?” she hissed.

“You would know if you weren’t busy fucking Constantine!”

“Does this look like fucking to you?” she raised her arms and tendrils rolled around it like snakes. “I am the master now! Not thanks to your paranoia!”

“You could have told me!”

“Fuck-all I could!”

They stopped in their steps, shaking in anger. Miranda went white as wall, blood still dripping of her hand.

“You were the one who said we should talk,” Jonathan said trying to sound calm and failing miserably.

“You are the one always jumping to conclusions.”

Jonathan rubbed his eyes. “You are right,” he stepped back. “Yeah, you are. Fuck it.”

Miranda nodded crying. “So are you.”

One of the tendrils pulled in the charm. Miranda took it. Shadows disappeared right away. Their master just collapsed on the ground, sat down shaking and crying. “I trusted you,” she bubbled.

Jonathan sighed and walked behind her. He sat down, their back leaning on each other.

“You didn’t,” he disagreed. Miranda sobbed loudly. “If you did, you wouldn’t be afraid of telling me.”

“No.”

“And you couldn’t do that, because I didn’t trust you.”

“You would fight me and tell me I am stupid. Because you fear losing me one way or the other. You always, always, always have to be right and we would just argue over it!”

Silence fell between them.

“It’s my fault,” Jonathan said.

“No, it’s mine.”

“Let’s split it 70-30.”

Miranda bubbled again in short laugh. “You didn’t tell them?”

“No. Jervis did. They just pried details out of me and it hurt. You didn’t fuck Constantine?”

“I got tattoos.”

Another short silence.

“What do we do?” Miranda asked.

“I don’t know,” replied Jonathan.

She trembled, he clenched his fists hard. There was an obvious answer in the air.

“We never really got to know each other,” he said.

“We did.”

“No, Miranda. Joking about your problems is not sharing. Playing them down like I do is neither. It’s avoiding hard things. That’s all we did, what do we really know about each other except basics you write in your CV? We keep to ourselves.”

“And we carry everything alone and we make shit decisions.”

“Yes.”

“We went too fast and got comfortable too quickly.”

“It was a sand castle, no foundation.”

“And one small wave crushed us like tsunami.”

Jonathan laughed at that idea. “You know, I think the witches were right. We really are useless.”

“They are dead, they have no word.”

“I’m sorry I caused this, Miranda.”

“We caused this. I’m sorry too.”

Jonathan stood up. He wanted to say something else, but no proper words came to him. However, he couldn’t leave voiceless, that’s what messed them up in the first place. He rubbed his eyes to shun the tears away.

“It was nice knowing you.”

“Yeah,” agreed Miranda. “It was.”


	9. Chapter 9

The fire got his attention right away. Batman was on his usual patrol when he learnt the house is burning – normally he would leave this to firefighters, but the address was well known to him. That’s where Miranda Bradbury lived. She gave him few wrinkles these last two months. Since he helped her, she was like and uncontrollable force, killing people left and right either working with Crane or just being paid for it. It looked like someone got her back for it.

He arrived just in time to see a woman run away from flames. She stumbled, looked very wobbly and unstable. Batman jumped to the street – trail of mud was left behind her.

Clayface. Basil Karlo, sometimes Betty Karlo. What was she doing here?

“Betty, wait,” he called.

“Shit,” Betty replied and tried to fasten up. Her leg tore off and she fell face down with wet splat. “Shit,” she commented weakly.

“What happened here?”

***

“Witch, destroying everything! She will pay for it I tell you!” Edward Nygma angrily restarted his puzzles Banshee messed up with her entrance. He smashed codes into numeric pads and moved around giant chess pieces he prepared as a great war puzzle for Batman.

Sweating like a bull he pushed queen to her place. “Thinking she is better than me,” he huffed. The queen got stuck on something. He moaned in frustration and kicked the stupid thing.

Queen staggered and leaned on one side. “No!” If it falls, he will never pick it up again! Edward ran to the other side to catch the bloody thing.

“Nooo!”

It was heavier than it looked.

Batman found him pinned to the floor by giant chess piece repeating swear words alphabetically in several languages he didn’t even speak properly.

“I’m looking for Banshee.”

“Witch! That damn wench, I’ll get her!”

“I guess that means she was here.”

***

Staff of Arkham gave him empty looks. As if they were drugged and didn’t even see him. The League of assassins hired several Gotham rogues to do their bidding. That sounded too complicated for Ra’s al Ghul. He always hired people he knew won’t mess up their job. That can’t be said about Clayface or Riddler. Not even mentioning Killer Croc. Ra’s was playing dangerous game and as it looked it already went out of hand when Miranda got involved.

What was the point?

Batman took the elevator down and entered chaos.

Assassins were running around in panic shouting at each other, pointing to different locations, arguing. None of them paid attention to the new visitor. Batman has never seen these top-level killers so unfocused.

Among the people he noticed top hat running to the elevator. Mad Hatter screamed in high-pitched voice when he collided with Batman. Jervis fell on his butt, looked shocked, his chest rose and fell under frantic breathing.

“Bat!” he shouted. Then he caught his head, looked behind himself, then forced his stare to the ground and rattled his teeth. “What to do, what to do?”

“What’s going on here, Tetch?” Batman awoke him to reality.

Jervis clumsily stood up and dusted his butt. “Bandersnatch…” he started and gulped loudly. “Bandersnatch…” he started again taking desperate look to the tunnel he just ran out of. “What to do?” he whispered again.

“Focus.”

“Bandersnatch said you need to meet the head of demons,” Jervis said so fast, Batman almost didn’t recognize the words.

“Ra’s al Ghul is here? Where?”

One last look to the tunnel and Jervis danced to different path. “This way, Bat. Scary swordsman is waiting for you, we mustn’t be late.”

The crowds of soldiers were still running amok, but Batman has decided to follow the Hatter. The further they got the more focused assassins were. Finally, a sound of hammers and wall crumbling invited them into hall where Ra’s al Ghul stood, angry look on his face. He turned to Batman and any sign of annoyance disappeared.

“Ah, detective, welcome. I planned to greet you more properly, but as you can see, we have little… disruption. Nothing we cannot deal with.”

Batman didn’t let any confusion show on his face but didn’t know what to think. Clayface told him she was working for the League and they were supposed to catch Banshee. At first, he thought Miranda will need help, but it seemed more like she stumbled into something bigger by accident. And now she gave the same wrinkles to Ra’s.

“What are you planning?” asked Batman. Sound of crumbling wall almost buried his words.

Ra’s smiled. Batman didn’t mean the wrinkle metaphor literally, but it seemed like the Demon’s head will become the Demon’s grandpa soon. “I’ve come to prepare a place for you. To be the judge, to be the leader you were meant to be. I came to offer you the League!”

If Batman didn’t want to keep his face, he would cuss Ra’s out of the Gotham. “We’ve been over this. I will not join your cult full of killers.”

“No, not join. Lead!”

“That neither.”

With last hit whole wall crumbled and showed dark tunnel hidden behind it. “Finally,” Ra’s commented. “That will be the first gift to you as the new Demon’s head. Lazarus pit! Hidden all that time under your own city!”

“I had enough of your games, Ra’s. Leave my city!”

Ra’s sighed dramatically and shook his head. “I expected this result.” With a snap of his fingers two dozen soldier entered the room with the same blank expressions Arkham employees had. Two of them carried TV showing a mall in Narrows, full of people going about their day.

“You have two choices,” Ra’s said. “You kill me and take my place, or I will release the toxin to all those innocent people and order them to kill themselves like this.” He snapped his fingers again and one of the soldiers stabbed himself in heart. Batman couldn’t even react, it happened in light speed.

“You are sick, Ra’s!”

“They were supposed to be ordered by Mr. Clayface with my looks, but I am sure most of them are desperate enough to want to die without his voice or Mr. Tetch’s hypnosis. Narrows are such depressing place, most suicides in Gotham are from there, did you know? They will follow my orders.”

Jervis nervously laughed and rubbed his hands. “Gas,” he whispered. “Gas.”

Batman clenched his teeth.

“What’s it going to be then, detective? Strike me down. Kill me, take my place!”

“Gas,” mumbled Jervis eyes set on Batman. “Gas.”

Batman had experience that taught him to never trust his enemies. They were ruthless and crazy. They went to terrible lengths to get what hey wanted. But many of them had honour and tried to get better. He adored them for that and hated he couldn’t help, and they always slipped him and went back to causing harm. But he has seen how it looked when they tried to help and, in those instances, he knew trust in them will not be misplaced.

“Gas,” whispered Hatter again.

“Do your worst,” Batman decided.

That answer shocked Ra’s. His eyes widen. “I am not joking around. Those people will die, and their blood will be on your hands! One way or the other you will become killer, you will be one of us.”

“I am not bluffing.”

Ra’s face turned in anger. “Do it!” he ordered.

The screen showed the mall filling with white gas. Batman felt a stab of uncertainty. Maybe he shouldn’t have trusted the Hatter. Did he make mistake? Did he just kill…

The people waved their hands around to get rid of the smoke and laughed. Then laughed some more. No hysterics not like when you let Joker in chemical lab, but they obviously got very high and very happy.

“What is this?” Ra’s grinded his teeth.

“Bandersnatch fixed the formula,” Hatter grinned. “You do not harm friends.”

“You little!”

Batman attacked. Ra’s never got to Hatter. He had to protect himself. Strong fighter like him never had problem with it. But as he grew old, he grew weaker. And Batman was at his peak.

Ra’s al Ghul lost very soon.

And Batman will have to clean all this mess.

***

“I had to clean all your mess.”

Batman stood on roof of a small apartment complex in cheap part of town.

“They started it,” Miranda answered. Even after two days she looked tired. Her hand was patched, she had trouble moving and what was the worst, she was heartbroken as hell. When she didn’t wiggle in pain, she cried over lost property, lost books and Jonathan. This is not what she wanted when she got her feelings back.

“You killed many people.”

“Are you going to jail me?”

“Unfortunately, there is no evidence against you.”

“Yeah, I won’t tell everyone I can cut people with my mind. Oops.”

“I already know.”

“I figured. Why are you here? Just to teach me a lesson?”

“If the League is ever back in the city, you need to tell me, Miranda. I have my disputes with them. I must know.”

“You never gave me your number.”

“Just start the bat-signal.”

“What’s up with that thing anyways? Are you seriously looking up in the sky all the time? That’s tiring.”

Batman smirked. “Get better soon. Stay out of trouble.”

“Don’t count on it.”

He grappled away. Miranda stayed alone on the roof looking at stupid blimps flying overhead. Using ghosts exhausted her. Constantine warned her – every time she uses them, more of her life energy will drain. Count on them too much, bam, you are dead before you turn forty. That wasn’t her goal. She just wanted to be the one in control and she showed those bastards she can. A prison, a prisoner and now a warden.

Yet she felt empty.

And she hated that feeling.

***

Jonathan needed long sleep. He didn’t leave his bed for days. Even if police would threaten to take his door down, he wouldn’t bother getting up. The work for the League has left him mentally drained and what happened with Miranda has left him angered at world and mostly himself, for he is an idiot.

So, he slept, ate and slept some more. Only Jervis tried to call him to figure whether he was cut to pieces under Arkham.

“No, I am alive,” he said tired to the phone and turned it off when Jervis started crying loudly.

All that sleeping and eating allowed him to settle his thoughts. He put on long gloves and dug through them one at the time, awake, in dreams, asking himself hundred questions and properly answering even the most stupid ones.

“What did I do wrong?”

“You are insecure prick.”

“Elaborate.”

“You think everyone hates you, you cannot be loved and therefore you expected to be betrayed and you just waited for that gotcha moment.”

“Ah. Fuck off.”

“Next question.”

“How do I fix myself?”

How does he indeed? He tried in the past and the path of good locked forever and he threw the key to acid and then cemented over it. That didn’t stop him from improving himself for himself though, right?

Right.

He slept and ate and slept some more and days turned into week and then two. So, after two weeks he finally managed to get himself together. He shaved, brushed his hair and he looked like a human again and not a wreck. He also had all the answers and he was ready to put them to good use.

And if it doesn’t work, he won’t act like a little child. He promised that to himself every night.

Bound in nervousness, yet confident, he knocked on the door. A person opened and looked at him like a murderer just entered the hall.

“The fuck you want?” asked Terry needlessly. They folded their arms blocking his view inside.

“I want to talk to Miranda.”

“Let me thin- no. You are not talking to Miranda, you jerk. She had enough of you,” Terry stood their ground. “You can be on your merry way, bye.”

“Let me talk to her.” Jonathan didn’t plan to give up either.

“Or what? You will scaaare me?” chuckled Terry in mocking way. That will definitely go on the list of complaints.

“No,” Jonathan scoffed. “I will come again and again. Every day until she is the one who opens the door. So, save me and you the time and get her.”

Terry rolled their eyes and closed the door. Jonathan waited. It almost felt useless, but the door finally opened again and there she stood. Miranda looked at him with the same mixed feelings he felt inside. He wouldn’t back off now.

“Miss Bradbury, good afternoon,” he said thankful he is a jerk and can control his voice as if nothing ever happened. “You left this at our last appointment.”

He handed her The Martian Chronicles. It must have burnt with her flat and he didn’t manage to get the same print, but he figured it’s a good excuse.

“Ah. Thank you,” she said little awkwardly. “Did you like it?”

“Yes, it was thought inducing book.”

“I appreciate you brought it back, professor. I missed… it… dearly.” She didn’t smile, but she tried her damnest to look him in the eyes. He had similar problem.

“To be honest, it’s not the only reason I’ve come.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No. Now, I know it’s not really appropriate for a doctor to do this, so feel free to say no. I wanted to ask whether you would consider going out on a date with me?”

Miranda smiled a bit. “You are right, that’s not really good patient-doctor relationship.”

“I know. But I would love to talk outside office hours. And to get to know you better.”

“See, professor, I was in a bit of pickle not that long ago. Cost me four fingers. My temporary landlord won’t let me come home after ten.”

“I will ensure you are home on time,” he smiled. “Lunch tomorrow?”

“Okay. I will wait for you.”

She shifted a bit as if she wanted something, but only said silent goodbye and closed the door behind herself. Jonathan breathed out all the nervousness. Yes! It worked.

“SERIOUSLY?” he heard Terry shout and smiled.

Yes. Seriously.


End file.
